Dreamboat day

Dreamboat day

A small chubby furry creature appears on the earth. Bung is his name. Bung because he is abut the size of a small plug that fits into the hole in the bottom of a boat to let out the water that has accumulated, when back on land. Bung the pet, the mascot, the semi amorphous life form. Once in a terrible dream he grew to become a rat, but even as a rat we would know him to really be a small blob that looks more like a puppet made from old socks. Disguised to look vaguely like a rat. He strikes fear into no hearts.

But this apparition lasts only a short time, as he is but a figment of a dream. The dream of a rat inserted into the dream of a small furry creature inserted into the dream of someone who dreams that they are awake in the dream of something that dreams that they are someone.

In the harsh light of the new day waking from one or two of these dreams whilst the others play out their time unnoticed. Waking-up just in time to see a large gathering of people being led into the great Australian desert. They are led out in small groups. Representatives of every race, caste, creed, tribe and clan. The plan is that they will settle amid the harshness of the environment and show all of the world how to live in harmony.

They arrive amid the great unbroken expanse of space and immediately turn against each other. Each claims their own humps, bumps, stones, rocks and hollows, and if anyone gets too close there are fits of growling and violence. But alas ! It is all another nebulous dream that pops and disappears from sight, even as it appeared before our very own eyes. We were tricked into thinking that something new was going to happen.

Wandering off from our set reference point – the dream of the self. The illusion that we are so firmly moored in. The dream that we repeatedly return to. Before we go anywhere else it might be a wise idea to disencumber ourselves from our dream luggage. To catch it as it appears and to throw the lumpy old stuff as far away as we can. Toss it far away, having gained strength from glimpses of something true and unending. Forbidden fruit from the margins of life.

For the greater portion of life stumbling from one dream to the next. Sure in the understanding that eventually the distasteful dreams will come to an end, and a period of effortless ease and stability will arrive. Waiting day on day, year on year. One day turning to look closely, and seeing the dream of effortless ease and stability floating off and away into the dreamosphere.

Inevitably there will come another dream to replace it. The dream of the ebb and flow of lifes events, and the absolute necessity that one must negotiate their course as each one arises. Only those who can rest on lifes sharpest edge without the slightest recoil will come to the place where dreams are revealed as being dreams and nothing more. When there they will notice that they don't have much company there.

Instead there are crowds wandering through the cities and jungles of life expecting relief from bother and pain to occur at any given moment. Expecting the release from bother and pain to come from no cause, but instead to pop-up from pure providence. And with every road passed and every corner turned another disappointment another day without being rescued from the vissicitudes of life. And another shiney new dream falls into their hands to provide freshly invigorated hope.

How sweet that hope is. It feeds the hungry and provides solace for the lonely. It whets the appetite for life and allows the juices to flow. It creates warmth in the cold, stamina for the exhausted and calms the agitated. It sounds like music from the heavens that rains down in waves, which melt away the bodies ills as it sweeps across us. It fulfills all of our needs in the same way that a mirage quenches our thirst on a hot day.

But there comes a time when one finally rests. The fists become unclenched and the shadows can run free. Standing open and exposed in the scorching light of unashamed truth. Standing raw and unprotected, with all of the ills of life readily available for access and assessment. Every movement and every breath is taken with full gravity, and the cutting edge of lifes moment eases all pain until suffering is gone.

Then comes one final dream. Meeting with the denizens of the land of the dead. They have left us but gone nowhere, as there is nowhere to go. We will walk together through the mountains and jungles of space and time. Pass through the formless realms of no-space and no-time. Sometimes I will see you, sometimes you will see me. Sometimes we can't see each other and sometimes we can. Sometimes there is nothing between us, bigger and broader than both of us. There finally finding ourselves amid the dream that does not fade.